The Black Feather
by O.D. Hall
Summary: A short twist of Goosebumps style with my own charecters and a similiar story, but tweaked like we all like it.
1. Chapter 1 The Dream?

The Black Feather

By: O.D. Hall

The birds screeched their horribly high-pitched songs as if nothing in the world was a care to them. Twenty-one-year-old Allen Michaels rolled out of his single bed in his apartment on the fourth floor. He lived in modesty though he had access to over thirty thousand Benjamin's. He did not ask for the money, rather he had inherited it when his multi-millionaire father passed away two years prior. He had done nothing with the money except for investing it in the bank when he had been given it. It seemed like a crime to him to spend money that was not really his, a crime not worth committing.

He had no obsessions or goals. He was happy with the job he had. He was the Assistant CEO at a major Computer Producing Industry known as Macrotell. The only way he'd ever get a promotion at this point was if Wayne Watson, the CEO, either got promoted to Assistant Director, or died. Allen had considered that both possibilities, while still possible since Wayne was seventy-something years old, were still fairly unlikely. He would not really want Wayne to die though since as far as Allen was concerned, Wayne Watson was a real nice guy.

Allen hopped into the shower and quickly rinsed off after realizing he had woken up twenty minutes late and rapidly shampooed his hair. After his shower he popped a Pop-Tart into his toaster oven and pushed "Toast". Still with a towel covering his waist he reentered his bedroom and let the towel drop to the floor. He would pick it up after work. He slipped on a pair of boxer shorts and his favorite black slacks. He fumbled through his dresser a found a white crew neck shirt to his liking and put it on. He then moved to the closet and pulled out a dark blue collar shirt and a black tie and slipped them on. Smiling, he pulled out the new black business blazer he had picked up at the Dockers's department at the Ridgeline Mall. When he put in on he felt a rush of warmth enclose him like slipping into a toasty sleeping bag on a cold winter night. It felt good to be able to afford a bit more expensive articles of clothing. The blazer fit just right so that it did not minimize or restrict any arm movement.

Before rushing out the door, he grabbed his keys, his black shades and Pop-Tarts and shut the window. He went to the elevator and hit the down arrow and the door opened as if it knew he was coming. He pushed the first floor button and the door closed.

He stepped out of the apartment moments later and got into his obsidian Corvette and cruised down Galloway Street to the Macrotell Incorporated complex. The Macrotell complex came in the form of a thirty floored skyscraper with a large fountain in the front courtyard. He parked his car in the lot titled "Assistant CEO" and stepped out.

Angela was sitting in her desk when he entered the lobby on the twenty-fourth floor. Angela Hopewell was Allen's secretary and also a friend of his. She smiled as he entered and said, "Good Morning **Mister** Michaels. Can I get you anything this morning?" He smiled back noticing the overdramatic sarcasm in her voice. "Actually Angie if you could get me an espresso that would be great. Double shot…" "Drowned in milk, creamer, and hazelnut?" Angela finished having memorized his coffee preferences. Allen's smile widened and he said, "You read me like an old book Angie." She chuckled and left the lobby to go to the café on the third floor.

Allen opened the door to his office and sat down behind his desk. He hit Ctrl, Alt, and Delete and logged in to the computer. The first thing he always did each morning was check his e-mail. He had three emails in his box when he checked it. One was simply junk and he tossed it, the other was a memo reminding all employees that the Fourth of July party was tomorrow and that each department was to bring a certain listed on the table provided. Allen noticed that the twenty-fourth floor was to bring desserts. Allen smiled and knew exactly what he would bring. He would make his family recipe for chocolate chip cookies.

His last e-mail however, was from someone he did not recognize. The senders name was He thought nothing of it and simply deleted it. A text box came up that said, "Don't you dare delete my message." Utterly bewildered, he tried to click the "X" button to close it and another text box came up," Don't you dare close this until you read me!" it said. Frustrated, Allen gave in and opened the mysterious e-mail. It read:

"To Allen Michaels,

I know you have a bundle of money that you do not spend and I have a proposition for you. Information from your father's murder for 2.5 million dollars. I promise that I have enough information for the police to find his killer and prove he did it. All you need to is put the money on a check. Sign it. Put it in the suitcase next your secretary's desk, and deliver it to 685 Parkway Street Apartment D and the Police will get a major tip off. Trust me; you can rely on my sources to cut 2.5 million from your savings. By the way, once you have read this e-mail it will delete and your computer will crash as soon as you get to the period at this sentence."

Then the screen when black and the computer began to hiss and moan as if it had been strangled to death. Allen sat there and stared at the blank screen, either too shocked or too frightened to know what to do. He felt his head throbbing like a man was sitting in his skull banging a hammer on the top of his head and then on the bottom. Who was this Black Feather? More importantly, how did this guy know anything about his father? Allen didn't know but if what this Black Feather person had said was true, he wanted to know every little thing he could.

He pulled out his check book and began to write out the check to 'Wait' he thought suddenly. He hadn't known the persons name. So who would he make it out too? Black Feather? He didn't know. Then he thought of something. He opened the door to his office and saw the suitcase. It was black and there was a pink Post-It note on the side of it that read: "6-8-5". He guessed it was the combo to unlock the case. He brought it in and opened it. Inside was another pink Post-It that read: "Write the check to Larrice Black" So that's who the Black Feather was. Or was it? It was so easy these days to forge an I.D. and claim to be someone else and even harder to find out who some people really were. He could be dealing with someone who was taking on an alias. 'Oh well.' He thought and simply signed and filled out the check. He put it in the suitcase and closed it.

He managed to put the case under his desk right before Angela walked in with his coffee. "Here you go Allen." She said. "Err Angie? I think my computer crashed. Do you think you can call downstairs to bring me a new one. This one looks shot out." Angela frowned and examined the computer on his desk. "My God it looks like someone lit a match in there!" she exclaimed. "What happened?" Allen shrugged, "I think it had a virus and just couldn't take anymore." She had Allen unplug it and she took it downstairs to be replaced.

At about 4:00 pm, Allen drove out looking for Parkway Street. It ended up being in a Bronx style area of Ridgeline City. He found the apartment complex number "685" and got out of his car. Suitcase in hand he walked up to the doorstep of Apartment "D" and put the suitcase on the ground next to the door. He turned on his heel and hurriedly walked back to his car and drove off.

He was scared. What would happen tomorrow he wondered? Suddenly something caught his eye. A person was standing in an alley. It beckoned him to come. It didn't move but it seemed to call to him though Allen couldn't hear anything. He parked his car on the side of the street and opened his glove compartment. Inside, laid a 9mm semi automatic pistol. He had gotten it after he heard about recent shootings in the area. He never left home without it after that. He put it into the pocket of his blazer. His heart thumped like a stampede of raging rhinos as he got out of his car and slowly moved to the figure in the alley.

"You found the place then?" a female voice emitted from the figure in the alley. It was then Allen realized who he was talking to. "You're the Black Feather? You're Larrice Black?" The figure nodded. "Larrice is a pen name that I gave myself years ago before I met your father, much like The Black Feather. I am an informant that works on a freelancing scale. You delivered my money, so I will deliver your information to the Chief of Police. You, however never knew of my existence." Allen frowned. "Tell me please. Who did it? Who killed my father?" The shadow shrugged. "You did." She said. Suddenly, someone grabbed Allen's shoulder. In a instant, Allen spun around and pulled the trigger on the gun at the person who had grabbed him. "Dad?" he said in shock. There stood his father, with a hand still on Allen's shoulder, and another on his chest which was covered in blood. Horror shot through Allen like never before. He thought his father was dead and now as Robert Michaels, Allen's father, crumpled to the ground, he had. Tears began to fall from Allen's eyes and dived down his cheeks. 'It was me!' he thought. It was……

The birds screeched their horribly high-pitched songs as if nothing in the world was a care to them. Twenty-one-year-old Allen Michaels rolled out of his single bed in his apartment on the fourth floor. He lived in modesty though he had access to over thirty thousand Benjamin's. He did not ask for the money, rather he had inherited it when his multi-millionaire father passed away two years prior. He had done nothing with the money except for investing it in the bank when he had been given it. It seemed like a crime to him to spend money that was not really his, a crime not worth committing.

**The End….**


	2. Chapter 2 The Party

The Black Feather Continued…

**Chapter 2**

O.D. Hall

Allen looked at his watch. "8:35 am" it read. His calendar had July third crossed out and the fourth highlighted. Allen didn't know if what had happened was all a nightmare, or reality. Had he really killed his own father? The whole scene seemed foggy and he seemed to forget most of what happened.

One way or another, it was July 4th and the Fourth of July Party was tonight, and Allen had a date. He then wondered if that too was a dream, or reality. Did he have a date with that girl; Samantha was it? He didn't remember. That was when his phone rang.

His caller ID labeled Watson as the caller. Allen picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. "Hello? This is Allen Michaels." He recited.

"Allen! Hey it's Will, glad to hear that you're up. Hey are you still on for tonight?"

Allen rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "I don't know, Will I had a really weird," …

"Samantha will be disappointed you know." Will replied.

Allen nodded though he knew Will couldn't see that type of answer. "Yeah, I'll be there. It starts a six right?" he asked.

"Yep," came the reply, "and I just e-mailed you her address and phone number buddy. Give her a call."

Allen smiled, "Alright I will. Thanks Will, and by the way, don't call my number ever again."

Will laughed. "Don't worry," he said still laughing, "You'll never hear from me on the phone again."

Will hung up and the dial tone echoed into Allen's ear. He decided he'd wait until noon to give Samantha a call and checked his e-mail on his laptop.

He had two e-mails in his inbox that morning. One was from William and the other was from More curious than shocked, Allen opened the e-mail from Will first, suspecting his computer would crash if he opened the message from Larrice.

_"Wait."_ He thought. _"Was all that before, real?"_

He wrote down Samantha's information and then clicked Larrice's e-mail. It read:

"To Allen Michaels,

Congratulations! You have made it passed the dream test. Everything that occurred yesterday between 4pm and right before 9pm was a dream induced by the fumes from your computer that crashed. Do not worry; I would not dream of doing such things to your home computer. That's just plain rude. Instead, I wish to assure you that it was **not **you that killed your father but a man was hired to kill your father, a man who was paid 5.6 million dollars to do the job. If you wish to know more, meet me at 4pm in the Roses Café on the corner of Galloway and 7th street. When you get there, stay in your car and I will come and find you. Oh and come alone. I'll know if you haven't. Another thing you might want to do is remove that gun from your glove compartment or else we're going to have a problem.

Yours truly,

The Black Feather."

Then it deleted itself. It simply vanished as if it were never there. Allen clicked his deleted folder and it was empty. How did a message just vanish? The Black Feather had to be quite the computer whiz to do that. Allen sighed and decided he would go and see The Black Feather as soon as he could, but first, he had to curb his hunger.

He slid some Pop-Tarts into his toaster oven and pushed "Toast". Then he grabbed a bowl and poured some Corn Pops into it filling to the rim. He then strode over to the fridge and opened it to retrieve the milk carton and poured some milk into the bowl. The buzzer to the toaster oven went off and Allen retrieved his Pop-Tarts. He sat down at his table and began to eat. He checked his watch, which now read, "9:27am". Allen finished his breakfast quickly and threw the bowl into the sink; half hoping that it would wash itself. He hated doing dishes. He had never had to do them as a kid because that had been his sister's job. His job had been to do the laundry and clean the bathrooms so naturally, Allen always had clean clothes and a likewise bathroom.

At about 12pm, Allen decided he would call Samantha. He picked up the phone and punched in her number. The phone rang a couple times until someone picked up.

"Hello?" came a shy female voice. Well, either it was a shy voice or a tired voice but Allen couldn't really tell.

"Samantha?" he asked, "Hi This is Allen Michaels, William Watson's friend?"

"OH hi!" she said a bit more excitedly. "I was hoping you'd call me. You're the one who's taking me to this party tonight?"

Allen smiled, "Yes that would be me. I was just calling to see if you would be ready around 5:30 so I can pick you up."

"Oh yes I can be ready by then." She said. "I'll see you then okay?"

"Okay I'll let you go." He said still smiling

"Okay, bye." She hung up.

Allen sighed and fell onto his couch. It was more of a love seat than a couch since it only really fit two people. Then again, by American standards, four people Allen's size could sit on it. He decided to take a nap and set his cell phone to go off at 3pm so he'd have an hour before he'd have to meet up with Larrice. He collapsed on his bed that creaked from the sudden added weight. Allen sighed in exhaustion. Today had been a very boring day so far, but there was no doubt in his mind that Larrice would change that. Not to mention the party that night. He let sleep come to him and drifted off.

The annoying sound of beeping woke Allen up at three. He shot up and gasped.

"Jeez." He said. "I really did get some sleep…" He smiled

It was normally hard for him to get sleep during the day, but today was one of those rare exceptions. He stretched and rolled out of bed. He quickly threw on his clothes and brushed his teeth. He hopped into his car and headed towards the Roses Café.

He knew where it was. In fact, he found himself going there quite often for their great coffee, but only in the event that he felt too lazy to make his own. He pulled into the parking lot and waited. His watch beeped to four. He sighed. Where was she?

_"I hope she gets here soon."_ He thought. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had no idea where she would be. Would she pop up out of nowhere, or walk out of the café?

Allen found himself being more and more paranoid ever since his father's death. He didn't know why, but ever since he learned that his father had been murdered, he had a fear of ending up just like his old man. Allen wouldn't allow it to go that way though.

_"No, I won't go that way."_ He said to himself. _"Don't even think about that."_ He shook his head to get the thought out of his head.

Someone knocked on the passenger window of his car. He glanced to see a woman's figure.

"Larrice?" he asked, though the window was up so she wouldn't hear him. He unlocked the doors by pushing the little lock button on the armrest of his door. The woman opened the door and stepped in the car and sat down in the passenger seat.

"Drive." She ordered with utmost directness.

Allen didn't hesitate, but put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

"I sent in your information to the police, but there's a problem…" Larrice said suddenly.

Allen frowned. "What's that?" he asked with a shaky voice. He didn't like where this was going.

"It seems" she replied, "that your father was involved in some things that one might define as gang activity." She looked at Allen, her icy pale blue eyes piercing into his. No. They seemed to pierce his soul, not his body. It was frightening.

"My father?" Allen asked. "In gang activity? My father was fifty-four years old before he died. You're telling me he was in a gang?"

Larrice shrugged. "Not all gangs are like the Cribs and the Bloods. Look at the Mafia. Organized crime. I have reason to believe that your father's entire business was based off a huge crime wave he set up." She sighed. "It doesn't have to look that way. I can tweak the facts to the police if they ask more about it," she frowned, "or I could tell them the truth. It's your choice."

Allen, now frustrated, hit the stirring wheel with anger. "Are you sure that your facts are straight? My father was…"

"How dare you question my sources!" Larrice hissed. "I'm doing you a favor **MR.** Michaels, and you have the nerve to question my judgment? You are lucky that I even considered helping you. Were you the son of any other man, I would not twitch an eyebrow to help you."

"Okay okay okay." Allen said. "It's just---It's hard to see **my** father as a leader in organized crime."

Larrice nodded. "Trust me, it surprised me too, but the facts are there. So, in the event the police ask more, what do I tell them?"

Allen considered this. Should they know the truth, or was it too much for even them to know? Allen shook his head. "Create some story to fill in those gaps, but don't tell them about his crime fetish."

Larrice nodded. "Stop here." She said pointing to a part of the road where the sidewalk led to a subway. "I will keep you informed by e-mail and may haps a phone call."

Allen pulled over to the curb and Larrice climbed out. She whirled on him and pointed a finger at him.

"Do not attempt to trace my calls or e-mail. You won't like what you find, and you won't find me." She turned and slammed the door.

"Wait!" Allen cried, but Larrice had vanished underneath the road through the subway entrance. He had wanted to ask what the previous night had been about. Had he shot his own father? Or had he imagined that part? Did he imagine everything? Why did his head hurt? Was he thinking too much?

Allen sighed and pulled back onto the road and drove around a little bit. He stopped at the Roses Café and got one of their coffees. He loved their coffee. It was the only coffee place where the coffee was drowned in milk and creamer as soon as you got it. All you had to do was add sugar and it tasted perfect.

Allen pulled into Samantha's driveway at exactly 5:28 pm. He stepped out of the car and walked up to her door. He had gotten a small bouquet of flowers and was quite proud of himself. HE rang the doorbell.

"Who is it?" a female voice called, muffled by the door and other sound blocking materials, the walls and such.

"It's Allen." He replied with a smile hanging lightly on his face.

The door opened and Samantha stood in the doorway. She wore a light magenta dress of silk that showed off quite a bit of cleavage, but not too much for it to be considered "revealing". She had her normally long hair tied back in a bun. She was gorgeous.

"Hi Allen." She said shyly. She pulled back a stray strand of hair and smiled.

Allen kind of stared at her. She was drop dead beautiful. He often wondered how women could apply a little make-up, squeeze into such a tight dress, pull their hair back, and then suddenly look like someone totally different.

"What are looking at?" Samantha asked still a little shyly.

Allen shook into the material world. "Oh I just can't believe how beautiful you look." He said absently.

Samantha blushed. "Oh thank you. You're sweet."

Allen smiled and handed her the bouquet. "For you, Samantha." He said smiling.

Samantha blush only deepened. "Oh how thoughtful. Thank you Allen." She took the bundle of flowers and walked deeper into the house. "Please, come in for a minute. I'll put these in a vase before we leave."

Allen walked inside her house. "So you live here alone?" he asked.

Samantha had gone into the kitchen. "No. Me and Diana split the rent. You know Diana right?"

Allen nodded. "Yeah, she works in Administration doesn't she?"

Samantha appeared back in the entrance hall. "Yeah, she and I have been friends since our junior year in high school."

Allen offered his arm for her to link with hers. "Really? That's cool." He said.

She accepted his arm and slid hers in to interlock with his. Allen escorted her to his car. He opened her day and helped her inside. He moved to his side and turned on the ignition.

"Okay," Allen said with a smirk on his face, "Let's go."

He pulled out of the driveway and zoomed off down the street. He zipped past the intersections catching each green light perfectly.

"How did you ever manage to get a car like this?" Samantha asked. She leaned the seat forward a bit.

"Well I do work as the assistant director Samantha." He said as though it were as obvious as a black bear in a blizzard.

"Oh yeah, oh and please," she replied. "Just call me Sam. Samantha is what my mom calls me."

Slightly embarrassed, Allen grinned. "Got it Sam." He said. "By the way," he muttered. "What exactly did my old buddy William say about me?"

Sam smiled, "Oh he just said that you were sweet, kind, and a little bit of a work-aholic." She shifted. "He also told me that you've only been here a few years and you're already moving higher than most other employees."

Allen smirked, "Well that is true." He said. "I have worked hard to be where I am though. It wasn't easy. Old Man Watson didn't believe in me at first until I got a special deal through."

Allen pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. He stepped out of the corvette and walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle and opened the door to help Sam out. He offered his hand, which she accepted, and he lifted her up off the seat.

"Why thank you." She said cheerfully. She smiled at him and stepped out of the car with his aid. "Such a gentleman." She sighed.

Allen smiled and closed the door. He offered his arm again and she accepted. Then he escorted her inside the building. The party was being held in the Tiger's Club. The Club was like a big reception room where many groups often held meetings and ceremonies like weddings and funerals. It could be transformed into a party room with the snap of a finger…or two. He opened one of the double doors and let Sam go in first.

Inside, music was playing at full blast and people were dancing in the middle of the dance floor. The song was vaguely familiar but Allen couldn't remember the name or the band.

_"Oh well."_ He thought. "Let's see if we can find William." Allen told Sam who just nodded.

It wasn't hard to find William at all. He was standing next to the bar. When he saw Allen, he came up to him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Ahhhh Allen," he said trying to speak over the music. "You made it! Great!" he looked at Sam. "You look great Sammy." He said.

Sammy smiled. "Thanks." She said. "Wanna dance Allen?" she asked.

Allen nodded. "Sure." He said just as a slow song came on.

Honestly, Allen did not like slow dancing, especially when he did it with women, but he would make Sam an exception and he put his hands around her waist. She put her arms around the back of his neck and they began to move to the rhythm of the music. Dancing with women wasn't all that bad, but it was completely boring. Allen had to keep directing his attention away from Sams' almost revealing dress, more specifically the part that almost gave him full view of her breasts. He wasn't a pervert, but he was still a guy. He sighed.

"This is fun isn't it?" Sam asked after they had danced for a few songs.

Allen had overcome his attention problem and instead of looking down at Sams' breasts, he looked at the glitter on her cheeks. That way, it looked as if he were gazing into her eyes and not being inappropriate.

"Yeah, it is." He lied. He didn't really like dancing at all and seldom did it anyways. He knew how to dance well, but he didn't care for it anymore. He had taken dance classes as a child to get rid of some of the free time he had after school. Time that was meant to study, were spent dancing. Now though, he didn't even think about dancing. So why did he enjoy dancing with Sam? She seemed so graceful and peaceful. She moved in such a way that Allen felt hypnotized by it and that she could make him do anything by simply saying so.

_"You 're thinking."_ He thought to himself. _"Stop it, enjoy the party, or you're grounded for a week Allen." _

_A/N: I hope you all enjoy Chapter 2 of this story! I want to hear from you so if you read it, give me a review! Any comments or tips would be great to improving the story itself. I have complete tolerance to constructive criticism… not criticism in general but if what you criticize is legit and you give me an idea on how I can make it better, I won't have the thought of wanting to bite your head off. _Seriously though, I do want to hear from any and all readers and I hope you look forward to Chapter 3!

**Coming to a web page near you.**


	3. Chapter 3 The Party Goes On

Chapter 3

The Party Goes On

By: O.D. Hall

Allen felt her breath on his neck as Sam rested her head on his shoulder. He felt happy knowing that she felt welcome. He smiled and they continued to move to rhythm of the slow song.

"This is great." She said with a sigh and snuggled closer to him. "I haven't gone to a party since senior prom." She giggled a bit.

The song ended and applause emitted from the crowd of dancers. Allen led Sam back to their table where he helped her into her seat and then took his own. Mr. Wayne Watson, the head…chief…..leader person of the Macrotell complex. I guess I called him the Director. Yeah, let's go with that. Anyway, he picked up the mic and walked onto the stage and a spotlight shinned on him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said into the mic, " co-workers and friends, I'd like to take a moment to say a few words…"

The rest Allen didn't hear. He glanced around the room to see that people were still moving normally. Some were even whispering to each other, but he couldn't hear any of it. He looked back up to the stage just when, apparently, Wayne said something funny and the crowd burst into silent laughter.

_"What the heck is goin on?"_ Allen thought to himself and looked at Sam whose attention was on Wayne. He tried to smile but it probably looked like a twisted grin than anything else. He pulled out a pen from his pocket and wrote, "Gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back." On a napkin. He tapped Sam's hand and gave her the napkin. She smiled and nodded and Allen stood up. He hurriedly rushed to the men's room and closed the door.

He quickly relieved himself and then walked over to the sink where he splashed water from it onto his face.

"Feel any better?" a cold shrill voice called from behind him.

Allen spun around. Standing there in an all black trench coat, shades, and a wide brim hat, stood a man who wore a tweaked and evil grin on his face.

"Who are you?" Allen thought he asked. HE still couldn't hear anything except for the man in front of him.

"Oh no one special," replied the man. "I just work for the Black Feather and she told me to deliver something to someone named Allen Michaels who would walk into this bathroom exactly at this time."

Allen shook his head. How could anyone know that he, Allen Michaels, was going to come into a bathroom at a specific time? He didn't really want to think about it.

The man handed Allen a black cell phone with the letters: "B.F." engraved in chrome on it. Allen opened it and nearly gasped. On the half of the phone where the numbers usually were, lay two buttons next to each other. One of which had a "Y" and the other an "N". (a/n: more on this in the next chapter.) The only other button on the phone was the receiver button so that you could answer it should it ring.

"Wait for her call tomorrow Mr. Michaels." The man said finally and chuckled a bit. He coughed and the walked toward Allen.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Allen woke up leaning over the sink. He shook his head violently and gasped for air.

"What the hell was that about?" he spat bitterly.

It was much unlike him to use such "colorful metaphors" since it didn't make him look very intelligent. Quite the contrary.

He could hear old Wayne talking from inside the men's room and he sighed in relief that he could actually hear again. He left the men's room and sat back down next to Sam who smiled at his return.

"Did I miss anything? He asked her

She shook her head. "Then again," she replied, "nobody's really paying attention to him."

Allen smiled and forced back a laugh so that it sounded like a choked cough.

"Again I want to thank you all for coming out tonight," Wayne continued, " and now I think I'll get off the stage so don't have to listen to this old duff all night." Laughter echoed across the room. "Happy 4th everybody!" he cried with excitement and handed the mic to the operator on the side of the stage.

The band came back on the stage and began to play again. Allen smiled and stood up in front of Sam. He bowed and then offered his hand to her.

"Milady," he said in an overdramatic English accent, "might I have this dance with thou?" he smiled.

She giggled and accepted his hand. "I wilst accept thy offer and dance with thee." She said back in the same overdone accent.

It was 1:30 am when Allen helped Sam into his car and got into the driver's seat. He put the key into the little hole thingy and gave it a turn. (a/n: wow…..little hole thingy…..very descriptive huh?) The familiar rumble of the V8 engine roared from Allen's engine.

Sam giggled a little. "That was a lot of fun." She said with the distinctive smell of alcohol on her breath. She was only a lot more than tipsy. Allen on the other hand, hadn't bought a single alcoholic beverage for himself because he figured Sam would, and he was of course correct.

"C'mon miss." He said grinning. She was actually quite funny to say the least, "let's get you home."

He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. He was about four blocks away from Sam's street when the flash of blue and red lights caught his eye. Ahead of him, several cop cars had gathered around and were putting up blockade signs. Apparently, after talking with one of the officers, there had been a freak accident and the whole road system in the area was closed because of it.

Frustrated, Allen made a quick decision. He did a u-turn and headed off in the opposite direction. He drove in silence sitting next to Sam who would occasionally giggle and say how sexy Allen looked in the dark.

He pulled into a parking lot moments later and helped Sam out of the car. She stumbled into his arms and he caught her and prevented her from falling. She looked over to the building and made a goofy frowning face.

"Wait a moment," she said staggering in Allen's arms, "This isn't my house." She pointed to the apartment complex and giggled.

"I know," Allen replied, "This is where I live. The roads to your house are all blocked off. You don't mind do you?" he asked forgetting that she was mind-boggling drunk.

She shook her head, "Oh of course not Ally." She said in a weird voice that made it sound like she was his mother. "I was simply curios where we were." She giggled again as if someone had told her a very funny joke.

_"Whoa,"_ Allen thought, _"She's really really drunk."_

Allen helped Sam up the stairs and into the elevator of the apartment. He opened the door to his apartment room and helped her inside.

"You'll sleep in my bed tonight." Allen told her. "I'll sleep on the couch."

Sam giggled again. "I wouldn't mind sleeping with you Ally." She cooed. "We could have some fun y'know?"

Then she collapsed into Allen's arms and fell asleep. He half-dragged her into his bedroom and laid her on the bed. He took off her high heels and gazed at her. Her silk dress made out every curve in her slim body and her hair had fallen out and now lay sprawled out over her shoulders. She was very beautiful. Allen sighed and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead.

"Perhaps another time," he said pulling the comforter over her, "I'll take you up on that offer. But only when you're sober." He smiled and chuckled a bit. He walked to the doorway and turned out the light. He made sure not to close the door loudly yet it creaked with every inch he moved it.

_"Oh well,"_ he thought, _"so much for being quiet."_

He dropped the high-heels next to his shoes and plopped onto his love seat.

Suddenly, a ringing sound echoed from Allen's pant's pocket. He reached into his pocket and retrieved to mysterious black cell phone, which was now ringing like one of those old phones that they used in the 50s. He flipped up the phone and pushed the receiver button on it and held it to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, quite certain of who was on the other end.

"That was a decent thing you just did Allen." The voice replied. "Most men would have taken advantage of such a young beautiful girl. I'm starting to like you."

Allen's jaw dropped. "So what?" he said, "Now you're spying on me?" That was far beyond what Allen was willing to deal with.

"Oh no no no." The Black Feather replied. "I have this phone rigged with an audio transmitter so that I can hear anything that goes on in a 5-foot radius. It's just so that other people don't pick the phone and ask you questions. I merely overheard what happened."

This calmed Allen down a bit. It was still so confusing. Why did she want to help him out so badly? "So why the call then Ms. Feather?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well," she replied not even reacting to his sarcasm, "now that I got your info to the police, I called to see if you had any questions."

Allen thought briefly about it then quickly began to ask away. He asked about the day they first met in the alley and the temporary loss of hearing thing, but most importantly, the man dressed in black.

"Well," she began, "as I mentioned once before, we did not meet in real life until you picked me up at the Roses Café. What you saw in the alley and on the drive to that apartment was all a dream just to let you know I was for real." She paused to gather her thoughts. "The hearing thing was… an attention getter. I was quite certain that you would go somewhere alone to figure out what was wrong so I sent my employee, the man dressed in black, to meet you and give you the phone. He's just an employee of mine, not to mention a good friend. Did you like him?"

"Like him is such a strong phrase." Allen replied. "He was creepy."

"Ah well such a disposition is the way he likes it. He likes to be feared." She yawned, "oh by the way," she continued, "it seems the killer of your father was a serial killer with a 10,000 dollar reward for his capture. When they catch him, all of the information will be put in your name so you will get the money, but you will wire that to me so that I can pay my expenses and employees."

Allen frowned, "And if I don't and keep it for myself?" he asked with a grin.

"You **will **wire me that money or you **won't **have anything to call your own. Got it?"

Allen nodded. "Got it." He said nearly choking on as intangible lump on nothing.

"Well," she said, "I'll call you again later so listen up for me. Ciao."

She hung up and the phone went dead. No dial tone or anything, it just shut itself off. Slowly, Allen put the cell phone down on the coffee table and laid back on the love seat. He quickly let sleep carry him away.

Sam woke up at 10:30am when she heard the siren of police cars rolling down the street. She shot up and cast her eyes around. This wasn't her bedroom. Where was she? She looked down at herself to find that she was still wearing the silk dress from the party the night before.

She rose from the bed and moved to the bedroom door. She inched it open and saw a man with his back to her working in the kitchen. He wore no shirt and had on a pair of black slacks.

"Allen?" Sam called with a hoarse tone that took her by surprise. The man turned around and she saw that it was Allen.

"Oh you're up." He said and quickly moved to the table and slid a white t-shirt over his head. "I didn't think you would wake up until later. You were really bad last night."

Sam stood there shocked. What had she done last night? After getting into Allen's car, her mind had gone blank… She motioned to the space between her inner thighs.

"We didn't do anything else last night did we?" She asked her hands trembling.

Allen shook his head. "Oh no, I wouldn't have allowed that. You did try to persuade me to do otherwise but then you fell asleep."

Sam let out a sigh of relief. It wouldn't have been the first time she had done something stupid like that. She smirked a little remembering that night. Then, she retained her composure when she saw that Allen was looking at her.

"Do you feel okay?" Allen asked her.

She shook her head which was throbbing, wanting to explode. "No I got a huge headache."

Allen handed her two little white and red capsules. "Here," he said, "take some Tylenol©." He handed her a glass of water.

Sam forced a weak smile and accepted the pills. She popped them into her mouth and drained the glass of water of its contents. "Thanks." She mumbled. "I was really drunk last night wasn't I?"

Allen nodded. "Yeah and if you don't mind me saying, I would suggest going easy on the booze next time." He smiled, "Do you want me to drive you home now?"

Sam smiled and nodded, "Yes please," she said, "and thanks for everything. I think all I have to worry about is this hangover. I feel in my right mind otherwise."

Allen chuckled a bit, and handed Sam her high-heels. Allen moved to the door, but before he reached the doorknob, Sam grabbed his arm.

"Speaking of which…" she said and she kissed him deeply on the lips…

A/N: There you have it! Chapter 3 is finished! I have really noooo clue what I'm going to do for the next chapter so if you all could….I dunno….give me some ideas that would be great and then we could all enjoy this knowing that it's a piece of every readers idea. Send me your reviews. I would like to take this valuable space here to thank sn0zb0z who has faithfully read both chapters and reviewed to both and like I replied sn0z, I forgot at first that I could simply add chapters instead of making a completely new story. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to fix it. HOPE YOU ENJOYED CHAPTER 3!

Sincerely,

- O.D. Hall


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